You Bought This Pain
by AdventureThief
Summary: An enraged Loki is returned to Asgard for his punishment. He suffers yet again at the hands of his family, but do they really want to cause him pain or are they trying to retrieve the man they once knew?
1. Chapter 1

His hands shook. Not in fear, no, in absolute _fury_. If the metal gag had not contained his tongue, he would have been spewing verbalized acid from his lips. He would have reduced the entire congregation around him to the quivering mass of slobbering _fools _that they were. However, the metal contraption fastened to his head made it impossible for him to even part his lips, so he settled for what he hoped was an intimidating (if nasally) snarl through his flared nostrils anytime someone dared to touch him.

Loki's eyes scanned the hall. He had spent much time in this very place. An golden throne glared at him from dais it stood upon at the head of the room. It was empty and mocking. He had sat in that throne once. He had the world at his feet- _once._ Now he was a spectacle.

Members of the court hissed at him as he was marched bodily forward. Servants, who had once averted their eyes in his presence, spat at his feet. Hot frustration boiled his very blood at the festival that Odin was making of him. Just as Loki cursed the man internally, the Allfather strode forward from a side chamber towards his golden perch. Thor followed, chest thrown forward, Mjolnir swinging casually in his hand. Loki was shoved to his knees.

His hands were bound behind his back so he could do little to arrest his fall. He felt the full impact of the marble floor crack in his knees as he landed. The pain distracted him for a spare moment from his ire before his chin jerked up and he met Odin's cycloptic gaze in defiance and rage. The Allfather rose a single hand to silence the vitriol from The hall's inhabitants.

Despite his hatred of the man, Loki greatly envied his power and command of his subjects. He snorted at the notion of being able to raise his hand and gather any amount of attention. It had been a long while since anyone had listened to him. Another grunt of mild amusement escaped him as the hall quieted down; he had to attempt genocide to earn even a sidelong glance from the man who called him 'son'. And still he wasn't good enough.

Odin stared down at him in the oppressive silence of the room. Though they had faded, the echoes of Asgard's insults swam through Loki's head as he eyed his father. He spared no glance for Thor. He could already picture the look the demi-god had on his countenance. Slightly upturned eyebrows hung over deeply troubled and infuriatingly innocent blue eyes. He looked at Loki with a stern reprimand itching his lips. It would sound the same way it had when they were children, demeaning. As if somehow, _Thor_ knew better. As if the difference in their age offered Thor some special ownership over Loki's actions. How he _hated_ them all.

Finally, Odin spoke, "The God of mischief has finally returned home. Asgard thought you dead." There was a pause in the speech, expectant, as if Loki could have, somehow, responded. He managed a growl instead as the higher god continued, "You have wrecked havoc on a world not your own. Associated with and done the bidding of monsters. You have murdered and abused countless individuals and attempted to damn an entire race to extermination."

_And what of your sins, old man, against me? And what of the unrighteous hand the world has thrown at my feet?_ Loki wished to scream at them, to tear his own hair out and strangle them with it. He settled for clawing at his arms and masticating his cheek. Not a soul in the nine realms cared for the injustices branded into his skin. Loki had scarcely felt more enraged, or more alone.

Ignorant to the tirade of Loki's thoughts, the Allfather continued, "In punishment for your abuse of the world you should be put to death." Here Odin paused, glaring down at the man he had once called 'son'. Loki drew in a ragged breath, nostrils flared. It would be poetic, for him to die at the hands of the one who had once saved him from certain death by abandonment. He ignored the small bundle of relief that bloomed in his chest, casting it aside as adrenaline. For what reason should he feel relief? He stoked his ire into a crackling flame.

"However," the king began again, "There are still a few amongst us who would speak in your favor." A hiss of whisper ran through the crowd, but with a harsh swipe of his hand Odin found silence again. "I have conceded your death and intend to put into action a new punishment." Here the king looked away from Loki's searing gaze and to the gathered peoples, "For his head to remain intact, the Trickster's mouth once again must be sewn. His magic is to be bound and he is, henceforth, no longer any prince of Asgard."

The congregation paused and seemed to twitter for a moment. Loki imagined the idiots were pondering on whether or not his punishment was severe enough to quench their blood thirst. They must have been appeased because a few seconds later a cheer began to build in the hall. Loki dragged his nails down his arms again, fresh blood blossoming beneath his fingers as his skin was mangled.

_How dare they!_ He raged in his mind, _What right do they have to change the rules for me? Odin would disown me, but not kill me? This is no mercy, this is worse than death! At least in death there is honor!_

Loki made as much noise as was possible through his nose. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he was mildly shocked that one could still yell with one's mouth restrained. He thrashed about, tugging as hard as he could at the metal links restricting his wrists. The warmth that began to trickle down his fingers did not bother him. The guards beside him did little but press harder on his shoulders, digging his bruised knees further into the marble.

A calm voice in his head told him that he must look like a mad man, but he ignored it, caring little for his appearance. Loki tried to focus on his rage, but at the sight of a seamstress approaching the throne, panic colored his vision.

He had been lucky the last time his lips had been sewn. It wasn't a true punishment but rather his misfortune at having lost a bet. The leather throng had been removed later with little fuss, but Loki had no desire to suffer the needle again, nor did he wish to face the rest of his years powerless and mute. Despite the tight reign he liked to think he had on his emotions, Loki was ashamed to find tears leaking down his face. He slowed his struggled to better watch the dais where his fa- where Odin and Thor still stood now accompanied by a sturdy looking seamstress.

The hall neared silence. He could hear his own panicked breathing stuttering in the air. The trio by the throne nodded to each other and slowly paced their way forward. Loki resumed his struggles. Thor carried a clean white linen and a shallow basin of water. The seamstress held a curved silver needle laced with thin leather cord, black as his own hair. The calm voice once again notified him with the useless knowledge that at least the two would match.

Odin held nothing but approached with the authority of a king. He looked down at Loki as one might look at shit smeared on the flooring. Thick hands shot out towards Loki's face and he flinched. The hands continued regardless, reaching to pull the muzzle from his lips. Loki was momentarily absorbed in relishing the liberty of his breath before he focused on the situation at hand.

His mind was failing him. He could think of no way to escape the impending punishment. Not a single lie formed on his chapped lips. A twisted whisper echoed in his skull screaming that this was only just punishment for his cruelty. Another cried at the injustice of it while yet another cursed the nine realms and begged for mercy. Odin continued to stare down at him, allowing the entire area a moment of silent pause.

"Have you anything to say for yourself?" The god pushed his chest out further and drew his shoulders back, intending to tower over the trickster and succeeding.

Loki fumbled miserably, still eyeing the needle poised readily in the hand of the greying seamstress. He felt tiny and weak. Reaching for his magic offered him nothing and he had not the physical strength to throw off the men holding him down. His breath quickly morphed into shallow gasps, he was going to hyperventilate.

"F-father- plea... Please!"

"You are no son of mine!" The Allfather roared before throwing the muzzle to the ground with a tooth jarring clang. "Madame Seamstress, proceed. Thor, hold the monster still."

Thor situated himself between the men holding his arms and clenched his jaw. His head was tilted back with a mocking gentility, the thumbs pressing his mandible were solid but not crushing. He couldn't resist Thor's grip, but that didn't stop him trying. The muscles in his neck strained to no avail. Loathsome tears dribbled down the curve of his flushed cheeks to tickle his ears. Loki squeezed his eyelids together to try to contain them but the action offered little result. One of the hands loosened and brushed against his face, taking a tear with it. His eyes shot open.

The lines in Thor's face were tight and deep, betraying the tenderness with which he re-secured Loki's head. He didn't make eye contact, but he continued smearing the tears before they could dip into Loki's ears. Loki could spare little thought for Thor's care as the greying seamstress approached him, needle poised and rag slung over her shoulder.

She dipped the rag into the water and swiped it across Loki's lips. Her thin fingers were strong as she pulled his lower lip out and immediately plunged the needle through. The trickster was stunned at the suddenness and felt little pain as the needle slipped through the sensitive flesh around his lips. Then the cord was drawn through and Loki howled.

The needle was curved and smooth, but the cord was much thicker than the hole made by needle and painfully enlarged the wound before scraping along it like sandpaper. Loki stretched his jaw wide, desperately trying to escape the 's fingers twitched and Loki's mouth was once again held shut, teeth audibly clicking as they succumbed the force of the movement. Thor's plump thumbs brushed delicately against his aching jaw. Loki strained against the fingers.

The seamstress quietly accepted the liesmith's struggles, repositioned her instrument and pierced his lip again. He bared his teeth, stretching his lips tight in rebellion against the sharpened steel. The action did little but further aggravate the oozing wounds in his face.

Loki felt the skin around his lips tear as he scrunched his face into snarl. The expression did little to deter the woman stitching his mouth closed, she merely pulled the thread tighter until Loki was forced to close his lips for fear of the thread ripping through his skin. He pressed his lips together in defeat, gritting his eyes to assuage the scraping pain of the cord through his skin. Tears gathered blood as they fled from his eyes.

By the seventh stitch his shoulders were convulsing uncontrollably and the hall had quieted to the dull hissing of whispers. He had willed his tears dry but couldn't stop his body from shaking and heaving with gut deep and silent sobs. Eventually, he opened his eyes, his mind occupied only by the scraping pain of the needle and leather. His gaze was met by Thor's darkened countenance.

The man above him appeared as a statue. Firm hands still held him immobile and the rest of the demi-god's body was held in the same marble firmness, only the pulse in his temple belied his life. Loki found himself coveting Thor's composure for the first time in his long life. Surely the man wanted to crush his head where it sat so vulnerable in his grip. Suddenly he was pinned by the crystal of Thor's eyes.

For their entire lives together, Loki had prided himself on his ability to decode his _brother's_ expression with little effort. Now, however, he looked into Thor's face and could read nothing in the lines around his eyes nor the tight press of his lips. Either the pain had damaged his faculties more than he thought, or Thor was tightly holding back. Loki had never known his brother to control his emotions as strongly as he was in that moment.

Their eyes remained locked for the remainder of the stitching. By the end of the ordeal, Loki's face was gritty with salt and his limbs quaked with fatigue yet he knew they weren't finished. Odin approached the huddle again, splitting the crowd with less than a trickster had not the energy for envy beneath his exhaustion. He watched the man's advancement with heavily lidded eyes, his head still cradled in Thor's hands.

A golden collar, inscribed with complex runes was clutched in his hands. He strung it about Loki's neck with little fanfare. The Allfather's face no longer held the intense rage which had dominated his speech earlier. Now his expression was nearly as blank as Thor's. There was a pinched edge to his eyes which Loki dared not interpret as anything other than disappointment for having sheltered the monster with sewn lips.

"Loki Liesmith is officially punished." The surrounding crown cheered. "Take him away, Thor."


	2. Chapter 2

Loki was heaved to his quaking legs and held upright by a thickly muscled and tan hand. He felt absolutely degraded as he was marched out of the hall. He lacked even the energy to curse Odin for his humiliating punishment. His feet trembled as Thor continued down the hall away from the throne.

Belatedly, perhaps, Loki tasted copper on his tongue. The sudden awareness of the amount of blood in his mouth caused him to double over, stomach muscles clenching in revulsion. Thor's grip faltered.

"Loki, what are you-?"

Back heaving, Loki doubled up on himself, falling again to his abused knees. Bile pushed up throat and had no escape. His muscled tripled their assault. Suddenly a warm hand was at his neck. Between the residual pain of his aching mouth and the burning fluid clinging to the walls of his throat Loki didn't even flinch away as the thick hand gently massaged the back of his neck.

He closed his eyes and focused on the pleasant firmness of the touch. A calm voice coached him.

"Calm yourself and swallow, brother. Breathe deeply. All is well."

Loki reclaimed himself at the last sentence, swallowing convulsively and stumbling away from the blonde's steady fingers. Sweat dripped from his face from the combined attack of his stomach and the exhaustion of his ordeal.

_All is well, is it? Enlighten me, _brother_, as to how muteness satisfies any aspect of being well. _

He wanted little more at that moment than to spit upon his _brother's_ countenance and watch his revulsion as blood, bile, and saliva dripped off his cheek.

_How well would things be then?_ He wondered as he dragged himself to his still unsteady feet.

The anger which had fueled him through his sentencing vanished as he wobbled back to standing, replaced by nothing bar the hollow ache of his jaw. Carried away with his anger was his passionate hatred of Thor's misspoken words and the strength to fight the god's leading hand. It felt like a vacuum had replaced his innards, emptying him from the inside out. The hollowness consumed the foundation of him, his ire, and continued its assault without pause. It left him vacant and weak.

His thighs trembled above his knees as he was led through familiar passages which spidered towards his quarters. Thor's fingers were a grounding sensation at his elbow as the two continued their silent progression. The pressure of them was just on the wrong side of painful, but for Loki it was a welcome addition to the echoes of abuse with rang alone the edges of his face.

He was deposited in his room with little ceremony and even fewer words. His escort pushed the lacquered wooden doors ajar and removed his grip. Loki refused to dwell on the sudden chill which crept up his arm as Thor withdrew his hand. The powerless god hovered in the arch of the doorway, drinking in the sight of the things he never dreamed he'd see again.

The room looked untouched despite the lack of dust which bespoke cleaning. Someone had though enough of him to clean. He shoved the sentiment down alongside the chill of his arm.

All of his books were lined precisely on their shelves. His various artifacts inhabited their cubbyholes and corners. The sheets and comforter on his bed had even been turned down. Loki assumed they were attempting to win his favor and the thought struck him as ironic considering his current situation.

A gentle nudge startled him from his cataloguing. In a fit of ignorance, or perhaps stupidity, he spun to berate Thor for rushing him. He snapped his jaw open so quickly and with such force that at first there was no pain, only the awkward pull of his taut lips. Then his body caught up with itself and the slowly dulling throb across his face was set aflame.

With a sharp gasp Loki tumbled forward, palms pressed against his mouth. His fingers clawed at his face, pressed deep into the hollows of his cheeks, the joint of his jaw, trying to sooth the pain. His eyes watered.

There was a set of familiar fingers at his neck yet again, kneading the tense flesh there. Through the ringing of his agony Loki heard Thor's baritone. He was surely mumbling something soothing and Loki had no will left to fight. So he allowed the calm syllables to coax his pain down. The presence of the fingers lifted.

"Better now, Brother?"

This hands tugged him back to his still frail legs, only letting go once his feet were firmly beneath him. Loki knew not what to do with himself in his tomb of a room. The space was like an old Midgardian photograph. Everything was perfectly preserved but seemed untouchable.

The hole in his chest pulsed as he stepped further into the room. He didn't look behind him as his trembling legs carried him forward, he had no heart left to care for the hovering man behind him. If his room was a tomb, then his bed was a casket and he intended to lie in it.

* * *

_Hey Everyone, _

_I am so sorry that it's taken me so long to update, and I'm doubly sorry that the chapter is so short, but I thought that you all deserved something. College has started again and my apartment doesn't have internet so things have just been a little hectic. I want to thank you ALL for your wonderful support and for all of the attention that you've been paying to this story. Frankly, I'm a little overwhelmed with how much you all seem to like it. A special thanks goes to _PhoenixWormwood137 _for their super enthusiastic review and a special thanks to everyone who favorited or wrote a review. I love you all! _

_Please keep me updated on what you think of the story though reviews, and thank you for your continued interest and support!_

_Ari._


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